I Knew You
by my feathered scales
Summary: It's 1964 and the second Wizarding War is over, but for some the battle for freedom is only now coming to head. Now refugees trying to flee Europe one in particular is given the chance for the life they had never had, and the family they had always dreamed of. It's 1964 and Mary Campbell is born. may be continued may not.
1. Chapter 1 - the shift

**THIS STORY IS COMPLETE AU IN THE HARRY POTTER WORLD IN REGARDS TO TIME. the events of the Harry potter universe have been tweeked and condensed a few years. this is also fem Harry for obvious plot reasons.**

**this can be read as a oneshot but if i get good reviews and have enough time between school then i will continue because i personally want this to continue and i have a lot of ideas for it.**

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**October 15th 1964**

"Are you sure you want to go through with this? It would just take-"

"I know."

"Ginny's right, it's dangerous over there!"

"No more dangerous than here! Besides, Dean has already set up everything, right Dean?"

"I have been in contact with my aunt, she's a squib-"

"And a Hunter! So is her husband! They kill things like us. We have all heard the stories."

"Calm down Draco, this is happening and you can't change my mind."

"-and she has agreed to let you live with her and her husband. The husband knows."

"The backstory? A sixteen year old can't just appear in a neighborhood, people will suspect something."

"They can't have children. Harry is a child they decided to adopt."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

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**October 17th 1964**

A black haired, green eyed girl stood in front large two story house with a wrap around porch, a single brown leather satchel slung over her shoulder. She hesitated before ascending the wooden steps and stopped, hand raised, before knocking on the front door. Her hand lowered.

This was it. This was the end of her life. As soon as she stepped into the building before her, saw the husband and wife that would take her in, let her live with them, her life as she had always known it would be over. The green eyed teen knocked, the door swinging open. An elder woman, with short blond hair and dark brown eyes, pronounced cheeks and a small nose. Deanna Campbell. The woman Dean Thomas was named for, his mother's sister, and the woman that had agreed to, dare she think, adopt her. Legally binding.

They stared for a few moments, absorbing each other. Could this be it? The freedom she had always wanted? The peace? Mrs Campbell opened the door wider with a smile and beckoned her in. no words exchanged. The green eyed girl was led through the foyer hall, polished wood floors, and a plush rug. Two doors to her right, she couldn't see past them, nestled in by the staircase. A wall to her left. Mrs Campbell moved forward without pause and into the main room. A fireplace with a brick hearth in the corner, a small TV not far from it and pushed against the wall, bookshelves littered spare space against the walls, she would have to go through them if the Campbell's let her. A soft pale blue couch a reasonable distance away and a coffee table in between, a neat pile of books to one side, and a large brown arm chair. Two large windows on the back wall showed the other side of the wrap around porch, a door to the porch open and revealing its screen pair.

The girl was led to the couch; it was as soft as it looked. Mrs Campbell's husband, Samuel, sat grizzled and scowling, staring at the blank TV. The older man turned when she sat, his frown dispersing, and he seemed to take the time to study her. Her scars and bruises and her war weary eyes. She did the same.

The woman who was to play her mother sat beside her. "What is your name dear?" she sounded like a mother.

The dark haired, green eyed girl looked up, and she realised in that moment that it wasn't when she saw this woman or when she stepped into the house that her life, her suffering, ended.

"Mary. My name is Mary"

And it was on that day that Mary Anne Campbell was born.

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**what do you think? continue?**


	2. Chapter 2 - beginnings and endings

**THIS STORY IS MAJORLY AU! the setting for HP has been pushed back. this story will be slow, both in the story itself and in updating, i am very busy with the end of year 12 coming up. this story, if you hand't already guessed from the prologue, is a FEM!HARRY. i have tried to keep Harry's character as canon as possible but it has been a long time since i read the books so he/she might not be book true. this story is, i think, a slice of life. and will follow Harriet journey to find peace, love, and family as she becomes Mary Campbell, and if all goes well, Mary Winchester.**

**this chapter is dedicated to my very first reviewer, who inspired me to finish this. its reviews like this that tell me if what im doing is good! so thank you** **salixshadow!**

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**May 4****th****, 1964**

Hogwarts was in ruins. Towers crumbling, walls crashing, roofs caving. The Black Lake was still, the giant squid never once breaking the surface, hadn't for days, the edges of the lake closest to the castle seeped red from the blood soaked earth. Lazy trails of smoke twisted in the sky, colouring it grey, and ash flittered down like snow looking almost peaceful. It was anything but.

A group of nine stood, their backs to the castle, staring out to the field between the castle and the Forbidden Forest that had, just two days previously been turned into a battle field. Two days. A few bodies still lay where they fell. Others, death eaters, lay in piles scattered about the field like hay stacks. In the face of it all the group of students turn soldiers clung to each other, hands, arms, clothes. Not because what they saw was shocking, nor because of relief. They reached for each other because they had nothing else to reach for. Some of the group had family they could return to, others had wealth and a name in society, some had nothing and that's how they all felt. They had been born into war, had been raised as soldiers, whether they realised it or not, had been willing to die two days ago, but now they stood there and they were lost.

What did they do now?

Harriet Potter, bruised and battered and leaning on crutches, her breath ragged and scratchy and her chest aching, turned from the death field to her surviving friends, family. Neville was closest, his arm gently around her waist, holding her up in more ways than one, in loose muggle clothes like they all were, his eyes clouded as he stared out over the field as if searching once more for their stumbling and bleeding forms. Holding tightly to Neville's hand was Luna, face buried in the taller boys shoulder, scars littered her neck where Harriet could see under her turtleneck sweater. She was silent as ever, had been since they got her and Neville back.

Draco stood next to Ron and behind Ginny, who sat tense in her wheelchair. The thin teen was hunched forward, his starved body hidden under a large jacket, blond hair greasy and limp, leant up against Ron, one hand on the junction between Ginny's neck and shoulder. Ron stood strait, a rock for Draco and his sister, for all of them, to cling to. But Harriet could see his shoulders shaking slightly, his one good arm clenched on Draco's shoulder, trying to make himself believe that it was real, that it was over. His other arm was missing, amputated at the shoulder, sleeve pinned up, the arm that would forever hold Hermione's limp body.

In front of the group sat Seamus, on his knees and head bowed, much of his face and head was bandaged and the white wrappings darkened as the Irish boy wept for his fallen cousin. Dean sat next to his old classmate, huddling the weeping teen to him with a wrapped hand, only his thumb and pointer finger still there, the middle and ring fingers lost to the first joint, pinky gone entirely. On the other side of Seamus knelt Blaise, expression blank but his arm stretched over the weeping boys' shoulders, and resting on Deans.

They were broken. It wasn't a realization that Harriet had just had thrust upon her, she had known that the people she now looked at as family had cracks long before the battle that shattered them. She wondered if they could find all the pieces. She doubts it.

"Its disgusting"

It was Ginny who spoke, her voice full of venom and hurt and sorrow. All nine pairs of eyes shifted from the past and locked their full attention to their youngest member.

"All those people…celebrating? Celebrating!?" the young redheads hands tightened around the arms of her wooden wheelchair, nails leaving little crescents.

"Hundreds of children, _children_, forced to fight, or they would die! Most of th-them did!"

Harriet watched as her friend screamed injustice to them, to the air. Crying and sniffling, her face red, teeth clenched and bared. Ron seamlessly dropped to his sisters side and used his only hand to pull his little sisters forehead to press against his, thumb stroking her cheek. Draco stepped closer at her back, his other arm coming up to rest around her shoulders.

As much as Harriet wanted, she didn't move, she was drained, her thoughts, her emotions, everything. The dark haired girl lent further into her taller friend, let him hold her weight; let him lean back on her. But Harriet knew that all of her little family thought Ginny was right, thought the same as her.

Today was the official celebration for the end of the war. All of Diagon Alley, the Ministry, homes, shops, the entirety of Hogsmead were in the midst of a party that had started early in the morning. When their little group had tried to pass through Diagon after their escape from Saint Mungos they had been mobbed by 'grateful' and 'loyal' witches and wizards who were trying to thank them, thank Harriet, for what they did. Thank them for killing. Thank them for being murderers.

Because that was what they were, murderers, at least Harriet was.

For magical people, to kill an innocent causes ones magic to rip apart the soul, but to kill anyone will cause tares and cracks, and Harriet could feel them acutely, had felt them burning through her skin ever since she woke up from her death at the hands of Voldemort.

And all of those people were happy. Harriet wasn't happy. She didn't know how they did it. So many had died, children, innocents caught in Lord Voldemorts snare and forced to fight at his side, even the guilty.

"They weren't there, none of them know what really happened, just what the Ministry told them." Blaise's expression was still blank, but there was a glint in his eye.

Ginny tore away from her brother to scream at the dark skinned teen. "it shouldn't matter-!"

"But it does." Ginny, angry and emotional, snapped her focus to Neville, an almost snarl on her split lips.

"Let them celebrate their freedom from war, they don't know how long it will last" Harriet's' words were scratchy and broken, almost gasping when she had finished. "we will mourn, and they will celebrate."

There were a few hums of agreement but in the end the group moved close to one another and went back to staring out at the field blackened with blood. They stood and sat for what seemed like house before Seamus pulled himself from the ground, Dean quick to follow and Blaise rising almost smoothly, a wound in his side making him jolt slightly as he stood.

Seamus looked around at the gathered teens. "If we can mourn, then…then it's over. It's all over. Does that mean we're free?"

_Does_ that mean we're free? Harriet wondered, she didn't know…

"I think so, I want to be." Ron, his voice cracking from screaming sorrows, hopeful.

"It would be…nice" Draco, wary, unsure that this was truly the end.

Luna took a step away from never, hand still clasped to his, eyes lighting with wonder, like a child, but the whole group took notice of the little smile that graced her face.

Ginny said nothing, not daring to.

"I've never been free before" Harriet, she spoke it softly, a whisper. They all heard it. The all knew. They had been trapped into being many things, but it seemed Harriet had been the most. A savior, a slave, a pawn, a soldier, a sacrificial lamb and a hero. She didn't want to be any of them.

"I think we are, or we will be, soon" they turned to Blaise. He was smiling. Small and easily missed, he looked up to the darkened sky, ash snow alighting on his cheeks and brow. He glanced down at them all, he looked calm, almost, and started to walk. "let's go home"

They followed. Like the thought of freedom, the thought of home sounded nice.

* * *

**May 5****th****, 1964**

Harriet lay on the floor in the Burrow. The rest of her little group of survivors had all returned to their households, or where they were staying. Draco had returned to one of the less used Malfoy estates in the Scottish highlands with Luna and Neville, a small cottage that was used to house the keepers of a heard of Pegasus owned by the old family. Seamus and Blaise, who had been renounced by his father for fighting alongside Harriet and no longer a part of the Zabini family, where staying with Dean and his mother, his sisters all off at their own muggle boarding school in America far away from their war.

Outside was dark, still too early for the sun to rise, and the rest of the house was silent. She and Ron were curled around Ginny, as if they were trying to protect her from a threat that no longer existed. Harriet knew that the other two were asleep, Ron's snores were soft having had taken a dreamless sleep potion and Ginny conked out from her pain medication. The three lay on mattresses that Harriet had asked Bill and Charlie to collect from various beds and push together for the three, while she and Ron started a small dragon hoard of blankets and pillows that they circled around themselves.

Harriet remembered sleeping like this in the castle during the sieges the year leading up to the final battle, and when they were hunting horcruxes, but instead of Ginny there was… was Hermione.

No, don't think about it Harriet, it's over now, there is nothing you can do now.

Harriet curled as much as her aching chest would let her into Ginny's side, taking all the comfort she could from the rare gentle contact. Her unruly, short black hair fell over her face and made her face itch, but she ignored it, unwilling to separate from something familiar for such a menial thing.

That was another thing, almost nothing was familiar anymore. Harriet had grown up with pain and suffering and always thinking of everyone else and that never changed when she was accepted into Hogwarts, but now the war was over and she didn't know what to do any more. She only knew how to fight, how to survive. She didn't know how to live, didn't know if she could learn how. If Hermione were here Harriet was sure she would know, her bushy haired friend knows, knew, everything. She would know what to do now.

In her curled position her chest went from an ache to a harsh burning that forced Harriet to roll onto her back to try and relieve the pain. Her doctor at Saint Mungos had recommended that she stay at the hospital for a while for observation on the seriousness of her condition. When the doctor, a mousy looking man in a blue medi-robe, had examined her ha had been extremely worried after finding her heart beat. Palpitations. Her heart was beating weirdly, that was what Harriet had understood through her haze of loss. The doctor had later told her that it was these palpitations that are causing Harriet such trouble with her breathing. He had said that it was likely that it was just from stress. Harriet knew better. She hadn't told anyone except Ron and Luna that she had died when she went into that forest. Harriet closed her green eyes as she tried to suck in a breath, rubbing circles over her heart as if that would settle its erratic beating. She had been prepared to die for her friends when she walked out of Hogwarts, she hadn't been prepared for the consequences of dying. She clung to the little hope that the palpitations were from the stress of the war and would go away.

It wasn't only her. She had let all of her friends be injured, some irreparably. Ron had lost his arm, Ginny would never walk without assistance again and Harriet didn't want to think about her empty left eye socket, Dean's wand hand was mutilated, Blaise was deaf in one ear, and Luna… harry could only hope she would be able to hear the pale blond girls voice again one day. All of this? This was all Harriet's fault. If only she had tried harder, been faster, done better, then they wouldn't have to suffer. Harriet may have killed Voldemort but she had still allowed his followers to hurt her friends. The Dursleys were right, she was useless, she could never do anything right.

Turning her head to the side Harriet took one more long look at her red headed friends before forcing herself up off their warm nest of pillows and blankets and bodies. The air that greeted her was cold and bit at her sore lungs and throat, but she had felt much worse, this was nothing. Her limp to the wall was slow and she could feel her blood starting to burn in her limbs, like a soft crucio in her veins, and she grabbed her crutches with bandaged hands, tucking them under her arms. A moment of relief, a sigh. It was as Harriet was stepping out of Ron's room that she wished desperately that they had decided to stay at Grimmauld Place, that they all hadn't wished so desperately for somewhere that was warm, even when it was so empty. Harriet wished the Burrow didn't have so many stairs. Her pale skin was pasty when she reached the kitchen, cold sweat sticking short black hair to her forehead and neck. Heart stumbling and lungs catching. Her wheezes filled the room as she entered but she kept moving through into the living room and happily fell onto the couch, crutches splayed beside her legs.

"Are you alright dear?"

The soft voice was unexpected and Harriet was reaching for her wand before she could realise she had left it upstairs. Her breath picked up and her eyes darted around until landing on the source. Molly Weasley. Wrapped in an over large dressing down, clutching ragged and old baby blanket. Even though Harriet could see there was no threat, years of looking over her shoulder and her friends shoulders constantly kept her panicked. In her frenzy Molly had moved to her side. An arm that had never been in the overlarge dressing gown placed it around her shoulder and before she knew it Harriet was huddled close to the older woman under the warm article. She closed her green eyes and leant into the embrace of the only woman in Harriet's life that had given her love and expected nothing in return. A hand swept through her dirty black spikes, cropped short earlier during the war, again and again. It was soothing. A rare thing for the green eyed girl.

They sat silent for a while, staring into the cold fireplace. Molly never paused her action, Harriet didn't stop her. She supposed it wasn't just Molly trying to comfort her. Molly Weasley was mourning. Harriet didn't know what it was, why Molly had this power over her, maybe it was some kind of strange magic, she just didn't know. Her shoulders didn't shake, Harriet made no noise, just stared as tears fell and vision blurred. The black haired girl didn't even know why she was crying. It could have been the war finally catching up to her, the deaths, the stress, any number of things that Harriet had every right to cry and scream about but never did, had been raised to believe that crying only brought more pain. Or, a tiny, weak voice somewhere in the deepest part of her mind whispered, it could be the gentle arms around, holding her as if she were as precious as glass. But it couldn't have been, because Harriet wasn't precious.

Harriet hid herself in the mourning mothers chest anyway and pretended that maybe she was.

Time sped past after that, and perhaps Harriet and Molly had fallen asleep, as neither could remember when exactly the sun rose. It was an unspoken agreement to get up and migrate into the kitchen. Molly put the dressing gown on proper, tucking the baby blanket into one of the pockets and started to make breakfast. Harriet sat at the kitchen table, helping where and when she could, but staying close to the red headed woman.

Charlie was the first downstairs, hair mussed and dark bags under his eyes. He didn't seem awake enough to form a simple response to his mother's 'good morning'. He sat across from her, arms limp at his sides and head thumped onto the table. His bare foot lightly touched hers underneath he table and Harriet leaned back in her chair, a tenseness in her shoulders leaving as his older magic wound around hers in reassurance. It would be that action that started a chain reaction, drawing the other inhabitants of the oddly shaped house downstairs to add their magic to the mix. It had been a little odd when Harriet had first learned of the subtle nuances of magical relationships and how they worked. When the black haired girls own flurrying magic had first been touched by another's she had promptly freaked and it had taken quite a bit of explaining from Sirius that magic wasn't just a tool for witches and wizards to utilise but also a way to connect to others and express themselves. It was a way of communicating. Harriet had often sat in silence with Ron and Hermione whilst they had been on the run and let their magic intertwine and comfort each other until all their magics flowed smoothly together.

Doing it now, feeling the magical presence of the people she cared about stabilised Harriet in a way that just looking at them, feeling them beside her, never would. After all, when wizards and witches could use spells or potions to change their appearance communication with magic to know that it really where your loved ones beside you was essential.

Draco, Luna, Neville, Blaise, Dean, and Seamus had all arrived at some point during the start of the meal. Breakfast that day was large a feast of both happiness and sorrow. A wake, to mourn the loss of friends and family and to celebrate their lives and the lives of those that were still here.

"People are starting to rally for the clean-up." All other conversations stopped as Bill said this, his hand clenched firmly with Fluer's.

A murmur erupted, no one really speaking to anyone else.

"Do you know when exactly?" Neville's voice was strong and determined. He wanted to help, Harriet could see it in his eyes. The tall boys words sparked a reaction from the rest of student survivors, nodding heads and hummed agreements and firm eyes. They all want this, Harriet did to.

"From what I heard? Two days, the seventh."

It was Blaise and his collected, cultured voice that gave them a collective answer. "We'll be there."

Molly instantly started fussing, the mood lighting as she worried over them. "Are you sure? You are all still so injured! What if you trip, or something falls on you, or-"

"We'll be fine mom, really, we want to help." Ron placed his single arm around his mothers shoulders, a gentle, humoured smile on his face.

A happy agreement came from the rest of them before the conversation shifted back into light humour, but there was still a lingering tenseness in the air. Harriet wondered if it would always be there.


End file.
